


I want to watch you come undone

by gonattsaga



Series: I lygternes skær [4]
Category: Blinkende lygter | Flickering Lights (2000)
Genre: Boys In Love, Coming Out, Fucked Up, Intimacy, Kissing, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Painting eggs, Public Display of Affection, Touching, Tough guys, Trying to be normal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 13:27:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1984677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gonattsaga/pseuds/gonattsaga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arne will be as long as he needs, and then he'll be back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Where is he?" Torkild mutters from his post at the window eyes never leaving the small forest's edge, even though he's growing increasingly restless and fidgets on the spot.  
  
Peter takes a deep breath and reaches for a new bottle.  
  
Arne will be as long as he needs, and then he'll be back. Torkild knows that just as well as Peter, and yet he still frets. And even though Peter knows that there really is nothing to worry about, Arne just needs to blow off steam in a way Peter can't help him with and it's been a long time coming now, Torkild's fretting is rubbing off on him and feels more and more nervous with every passing hour that Arne stays away, like a prickling all over his body, almost like worry, and there's a pull in his gut, an impulse to go after Arne, to bring him back. _Because it's not fair_. Just because Torkild is being an idiot and pushing all of Arne's buttons, testing and trying him, crowding him into a corner until he's crawling out of his skin, until he _snaps_ , as usual, and just because Arne needs to explode before he implodes, that doesn't mean he has to leave _Peter_.  
  
 _I haven't done anything_ , Peter thinks sullenly and glares a little at Torkild because it's his fault.  
  
"He'll be back", Torkild assures him for the fifth time when he senses Peter's eyes on him. "Soon! You know what he's like..."  
  
Peter's skin prickles at that.  
  
"I know", he bites out because that's crossing the line.  
  
Torkild catches himself, a little too late.  
  
"Of course you do!" he amends quickly. "I just..."  
  
He gestures vaguely and Peter nods, once.  
  
"Yeah..." Torkild trails off and turns back to stare out the window.  
  
Then suddenly he turns back to Peter and moves to sit down across from him at the table, but just as suddenly he changes his mind, and direction, and heads outside instead.  
  
Peter opens another two bottles of beer.  
  
  
  
  


"Hiya!" Arne chirps when he eventually reappears, as if nothing has happened, and maybe nothing has, except Arne stayed out all night and Peter couldn't sleep because the only time he's slept without Arne at least being in the same room as him was when he was locked up, and he was barely conscious then, other than that he's always had Arne close-by.  
  
And last night he didn't, so he couldn't sleep. It was as if he'd forgotten how. A small part of him took comfort in the thought that Arne also lay awake somewhere in the forest, thinking about him, also unable to sleep. But judging by the spring in the other man's step and his energetic mood, Peter would say he had a really good night's sleep. His chest clenches at the thought.  
  
Arne meets his eyes briefly, and something unfamiliar flickers by in his face, something unsure, and Peter feels light all of a sudden, and not in a good way. Then Arne quickly looks away again and continues into the kitchen. Torkild trails after him, clearly anxious to make up if making up is needed. Peter listens to their voices drift through the air and feels himself drifting too somehow, but rather than feeling like he's shoved himself off the ground, it's like the ground has plummeted below him. He doesn't like it.  
  
"Come on", Torkild says and breaks him out of his thoughts. "We're all going to the beach! Together!"  
  
Arne is hovering behind him, glancing at Peter over his shoulder, almost shyly. Peter nods and puts the bottle down.  
  
As they're walking, Arne sidles up and falls into step with him. He doesn't say anything, doesn't even look at him, just walks close enough to him that they bump shoulders every now and then.  
  
Peter sits down heavily next to Torkild on a weather worn tree trunk that's been washed ashore. Stefan and Hanne are walking along the water's edge, laughing and in love. A bit further down the beach, Arne is throwing rocks into the water. There's something definitely carefree about him. Some sort of innocence that Peter can't remember ever having seen in him before, not even when they were kids.  
  
After a while Arne tires of the rocks and the water and joins Peter and Torkild on the tree trunk instead. They all watch Stefan and Hanne for a moment. Peter and Arne wave at them.  
  
"Stefan looks really happy, doesn't he?" Arne says, voicing exactly what Peter had been thinking, and what he'd also thought about Arne when he was watching him in the same way earlier.  
  
"Are you okay?" Torkild demands.  
  
"Yeah I'm fine thanks", Arne replies genuinely.  
  
Peter smiles. He still feels light, but Arne's warmth where he's pressed against his side anchors him. As if he had heard his thoughts, Arne squirms a little closer to him. Making a split second decision, Peter moves his arm behind Arne and immediately the other man settles against him and rests his head on his shoulder. _He'll get a crick in his neck_ , Peter thinks, but hugs him close all the same. Torkild mutters something, but they both ignore it.  
  
After a while Arne leans his head back again, but stays snuggled into Peter's side.  
  
"Hey..." He murmurs quietly.  
  
Peter looks at him. There's a glint in the other man's eye, and Peter knows that glint, know it very well, one might even say _intimately_ , except now it's a little warmer than usual. Peter swallows thickly as if that would tamp down the emotions welling up inside of him.  
  
Arne opens his mouth to continue, but is interrupted by Stefan and Hanne approaching them and the wary look on Stefan's face.  
  
"Hanne has had a good idea", he croaks, faking a smile.  
  
"Oh?" Arne says and it's not even sarcastic.  
  
It's a ridiculous idea, of course. But for some reason it seems to be important to this girl who happens to be important to Stefan and Stefan in turn is important to all of them. So here they are.  
  
Peter and Arne glance at each other, and at each other's eggs, unsure of how to deal with this, or even feel about it. Peter is suddenly seized by a childish impulse to shield his egg from Arne's judgmental scrutiny and he angles himself away from the other man, whose look clearly said _What is that? Haven't you ever held a paint brush before?_ and Peter hasn't, but then neither has Arne, he's sure.  
  
Arne knocks his knee against Peter's. It's a gesture. And Peter will take it.  
  
Then suddenly the mood around the table shifts dramatically. Hanne is laughing, just laughing and laughing, almost hysterically, and she just _won't stop_ and Torkild's face gets redder and redder. Peter quickly reaches for his beer. Stefan is trying to calm Hanne down, but it's not working. Arne opens his mouth to tell Stefan to give it up and just get her out of there, but before he's had the chance to utter as much as a syllable, the laughter stops and Hanne is bleeding from her nose.  
  
"Stefan, for fuck's sake, just get her out of here", Arne says.  
  
"Yeah", Stefan mumbles and helps his girlfriend to her feet, gently guiding her back towards the house.  
  
Arne leans in to assure Torkild that there must have been something wrong with that egg. Peter quickly agrees, "Of course you can blow eggs, Torkild. There's just something wrong with that one."  
  
Torkild gratefully accepts their reassurance and agrees that the egg shells looks completely weird on the inside.  
  
"Yeah", Arne says briskly. "A sick hen clearly laid that egg! I wouldn't worry about it, Torkild."

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

"Hey..." Arne murmurs again, just like earlier on the beach as if they'd never been interrupted.

 

His breath hits Peter's cheek like a warm gust of wind. Peter turns his head to meet his gaze, _there's that glint again_ , and they're only a decimetre apart, maybe less, definitely within kissing distance. He glances down at the subtle quirk of the other man's lips and wets his own instinctively.

  
  
"Let's go for a walk", Arne suggests, voice deceptively cool, then glancing over his shoulder at Torkild he adds: "Torkild, do you mind?"  


"What?" The older man mumbles. "Oh, no, of course not..."  


He waves them off. Arne turns back to Peter again, mouth twitching mischievously. Peter nods and gently puts his egg down on the table. There's a fondness in Arne's face after that that Peter can't remember having ever seen before, but he doesn't comment and he doesn't make any cutting remarks about Peter's egg either. Something churns inside Peter, curling in his chest and tickling his stomach. He tries not to let it show in his face.

 

They walk back towards the beach. Arne bumps their shoulders together, then grabs Peter's hand. Clumsily they arrange their fingers until they fit together and Peter gently squeezes Arne's hand in his.  


After a while, as the sea comes into view, Arne slows down their mutual pace.

  
  
"I'm sorry about before", he says. "I mean last night."  


"It's okay", Peter says even though it hadn't been, but it is now so he figures it doesn't matter anymore.  


"It just felt so good to get away from everything", Arne continues. "Not you. But the rest of it."  


"I know", Peter says, _I know you,_ he thinks but doesn't dare say aloud.  


"And I met Alfred and he just gets me, you know? And that felt so good too..."  


Arne must have sensed some change in Peter because suddenly he stops walking altogether and his grip on Peter's hand tightens to make sure he stops too.

  
  
"Shit, I'm sorry", he says. "I didn't mean..."  


"No, I know!" Peter reassures him quickly and pretends not to be hurt.  


"No-one knows me as well as you", Arne says seriously and Peter feels himself blush at the sincerity. "But Alfred is _like_ me, that's different. You know me because you're close to me and we go way back—and you know no-one has ever got so close to me as you, not by a mile— but Alfred doesn't need to get close to me, or _learn_ about me, because he already knows the things we have in common, you know in himself..."

  
Peter feels light-headed. They never talk this openly, about anything, but especially not about anything that matters, like _their feelings_ , like _their feelings for each other_.

  
"Sorry", Arne mutters. "I just want to be honest with you... I didn't mean to make you, you know, uncomfortable or anything..."  


Before he's had a chance to think too much about it, any of it, Peter steps closer to the other man, gently cradles his head and kisses him, _deeply_ , all in one swift movement.

  
Arne gasps and Peter tries to swallow the sound of it. He tangles his fingers in Arne's hair, _still needs a wash,_ and sucks on his lower lip hungrily. Arne's hands find their way to his back and hugs him even closer, then trail down to grab his arse. Peter moans around the other man's tongue, without even meaning to, as he kneads his buttocks and holds him in place. Peter instinctively rocks his hips once, then snakes his hands in-between their bodies to start unbuttoning Arne's trousers, his fingers shaky and eager.

  
"Wait", Arne gasps and leans away from him a little.  


Cold air fill up the small space between them. They're both panting, both semi-hard and growing harder. Arne licks his lips and Peter traces the movement with his gaze.  


"I was thinking..." Arne continues thickly. "I know it's outdoors and that's never as hot as you imagines it would be, and I know anyone could walk by and catch us—although chances are rather slim since we're in the middle of fucking nowhere—"  


"Arne", Peter interrupts and gives him a significant look.  


"Yeah", Arne agrees. "But I was thinking of getting your opinion on possibly ... Here. Or on the beach. You know. We could spread out out jackets and we could..."  


He stops short and swallows quickly, insecurity seeping into his face.  


"No, it's stupid", he mutters."I don't know what I was thinking..."  


He leans in to kiss Peter again, and it's definitely a manoeuvre to distract, but Peter leans back, out of reach. Eyes imploring, trying to scoop up Arne's gaze again. But the other manis avoiding eye contact now, a faint tint of pink appearing on his cheeks.  


"Hang on", Peter murmurs. "Slow down..."  


 _Arne is trembling,_ he suddenly realises. He moves his hands up the other man's back and hugs him close again. He fits his neck around Arne's, shoulders slotting together. Gently stroking the other man's head he turns his face into the crook of the other man's neck and nuzzles the soft skin there.  


Arne's hands seem to hesitate against his arms, but then they slide up and cradle his head, _holds it in place_ , and a tiny moan of pleasure escapes him. Peter files that away to keep, to remember when, _if_ , Arne ever disappears from him again, even if it is only for one night.  


"Let's get your jacket off then", Peter murmurs against the side of Arne's neck, then: "It's okay..." Because Arne is so full of nerves and insecurity it's coming out of his pores.

 

Peter hushes him gently, even though he's not making a sound, like you would with an upset child and that should be disturbing but it isn't. And it works. Arne immediately relaxes, at least a little. And he leans far enough back that Peter can push his jacket off his shoulders. He lays it out of the ground, then spreads his own suit jacket out next to it.  


He stares at Arne's bare arms now exposed and already Arne seems more naked than Peter has ever seen him. He feels his cock twitch a little with interest and then continue to swell as he moves his hands up those arms and feels the muscles, hard under soft skin. The contrast in itself is a turn-on, but the obvious association is what makes his blood truly rush.  


"Fuck I feel nervous!" Arne jokes, as if it wasn't glaringly obvious, and half-chuckles.  


"You don't have to be", Peter mumbles and continues to unbutton his fly.  


"I know", Arne mutters. "It's not like I'm some blushing virgin or anything, I just..."  


Peter doesn't say _I know_ , just gives him a look that says he shouldn't have to. Arne blushes harder.  


"Fucking hell, man", he swears quietly almost to himself, then peers at Peter again and says: "It's just... New."  


Peter leans in to kiss him, _to shut him up, no, to reassure him, okay both_. He gets Arne's trousers undone and pushes them swiftly down his legs along with his pants. Arne trembles slightly against him. But as soon as Peter takes a hold on him he rocks his hips instinctively. Peter strokes him a couple of times, just to take the edge off, _and squeezes_ , eliciting a groan that turns into a whimper before Arne shuts it in by shoving his face into the crook of Peter's neck. Peter hushes him again and immediately feels the effect it has on the other man.  


"Come on", he murmurs. "Lie down..."  


"Wh-what about you..." Arne asks, almost genuinely uncertain, even as he steps out of his pants and trousers and lifts his arms when Peter pulls on his t-shirt.

 

Peter doesn't bother replying, just kneels on the ground with him before directing him to lie back. Once Arne is spread out in front of him, Peter allows himself to just look for a second, and he tries to memorise all of Arne's features, tries to _sear this image into his mind_ , just in case. Then he sits back and starts unbuttoning his shirt. Arne tries to sit up again, but Peter puts his hand on his chest, _and that's his heart, beating that hard because of me_ , and pushes gently. Arne barely resists, and only for a split second, before he lies back down again.  
  
"I can't believe we haven't done this before", he half-jokes, _the silence must be getting to him_.

 

By _this_ he could mean taking their time, lying down together or being able to watch each other, or all of the above, _some might call it making love._ He doesn't say _why_ haven't they done it, _this_ , before. They both know why. Even though neither of them has ever really thought about it, at least not on a conscious level and then not for too long. This just wasn't possible before. For either of them.

 

Peter isn't altogether sure what's changed, what this place has done to them, but suddenly whatever half-arsed, fickle arrangement of a relationship they had before just wasn't enough anymore. _Isn't_ enough anymore. It's taken them twenty years, but they're finally ready to see each other and themselves, to fully commit to their feelings, to take the plunge and really _be together_. In all senses.  
  
"You're beautiful", Peter says, _because he can now,_ and even though Arne rolls his eyes and tells him to _shut up,_ he also blushes and there's a definite glint in his eyes, and the ghost of a smile flickers by before he sits up and tears Peter's trousers open in one rough movement.  
  
"And hurry up", he grouses, but without any actual sting to it. "Before I fucking freeze to death!"  


Peter snorts. Autumn may be just around the corner, but it's not exactly cold out. But as soon as the thought has flickered in his mind, Arne finally manages to get his cock out and the cool air hits it so suddenly he gasps, but the sound of it is drowned out by Arne's curse. He stares. Peter mind whirs worriedly for a moment until he realises that the look on his friend's, _boyfriend's?_ , face is amazement, _and lust, pure and primal, his eyes are all pupil_ , and he swallows thickly.  


"Can I touch you?" He blurts out, still staring at Peter's cock.  


He must have heard how silly it sounded as soon as he'd said it because he blushes profusely and grabs Peter quickly, without waiting for a reply. Peter would tease him about it, but then Arne squeezes him and it's like he's turned a switch in his head, blacking out all thought and only leaving Peter with the ability to _feel_ , and he does, with every fibre of his being.  


He's grabbing at Arne's shoulders clumsily, desperately, not even sure himself what he's trying to accomplish exactly, he just knows that he _needs_ , needs Arne, needs him closer, _how close can you get?_  


He kisses his way up Arne's neck, mouths his jaw and cheek until he reaches his mouth. He sucks the other man's lower lip into his mouth, nibbles on it gently, then soothes it with his tongue. Arne growls. That's the only way to describe it. He growls. His body is taut with tension, trembling with barely restrained energy, want and lust oozing from him.  


"I want you in my mouth", Peter gasps before he's really thought about it.  


"Y-yeah oh-kay..."  


"I want to see you come", Peter adds, and he feels lightheaded with want, but then again it could be the blood loss in his head. "Please..."  


"Fuck!" Arne gasps, and his cock twitches in Peter's hand.  


Peter pushes himself against him, sweaty chests sticking together briefly as Peter guides Arne back to the ground. He trails sloppy kisses down his body. He tilts his head and bypasses his cock where it's straining up his belly and mouths the jutting angle of his hipbone instead. He puts a steady hand on his other hipbone and keeps him in place when he tries to thrust up against him.  


"Steady now..." He murmurs and grins.  


"Peter..." Arne gasps, pleads.  


"Mmm", Peter hums casually, then swallows him down whole, no preparation.  


Arne swears in his broken voice and slings his arm over his eyes. Peter immediately releases him and strokes him with his hand instead.  


"No, don't hide", he says as sternly as he's able to. "I want to see you."  


"Aah fuck!..."  


Arne forces his arm to the side and claws at the ground to keep it down. Peter feels his own cock throb, almost painfully. Sparks of pleasure shoot through him, and _it's not enough_.  


"Good guy..." he manages to tease all the same.  


"Peter!" Arne openly pleads now.  


"Alright, alright... Calm down, skæt... Just keep your hands on the ground."  


It all moves quickly after that. Peter wastes no time, knowing all the tricks to take Arne apart he quickly drives him right up to the edge, _and then keeps him there_.  


Arne bites his lower lip to keep himself from moaning, swearing, shouting, and he even thrashes around a little, his whole body trembling. Dry grass coming off in handfuls at his sides. Peter marvels at the flush in his cheeks and the sheen of sweat coating his entire body, _making him shine._  


Peter feels his own hard-on throb and ache with unrelieved pressure, pleasure this side of painful pulsing through him. And finally, not because Arne clearly can't take it anymore, but because Peter can't, he swallows him down, all the way down, one last time and swallows all around him, throat hugging the other man's cock as if to beckon his release.  


And he flicks his gaze up, just in time, to see it happen and, _there you are_ , he nearly comes himself just from watching the Arne's orgasm ripple through him. Then with a couple of quick pulls he does come.  


"Oh fuck me!" Arne gasps once he's got himself slightly under control again and even though he doesn't mean it _like that_ , Peter still thinks _Maybe next time_ as he stretches out next to him.  


They're both panting heavily. Arne is completely spent. He rolls towards Peter and tries to embrace him, steaming hot and practically boneless.  


"That was the most intense..." he trails off.  


"Yeah", Peter agrees all the same.  


"Just give me a second", Arne says then.  


It takes a couple of seconds for Peter to process the words, and then a couple of more to grasp their meaning. He feels his face heat up a little, but other than that he's simple too afterglow afflicted to feel embarrassed when he tells Arne not to worry about it.  


Arne gives him a questioning look, and Peter feels a hint of embarrassment start to builds after all, but then realisation slowly dawns on Arne and his eyes go _black_ with lust and Peter feels anything but embarrassed. Arne looks at him like he's _starved_ for him and it's the second most erotic thing Peter has ever seen. And if he was twenty instead of thirty-five he would probably be rock hard again just from that look.  


 

 

"This wasn't a one time thing", Arne says later when they've both dressed and are strolling aimlessly along the shore.  


It could have been a question, but Arne is still a little too wary and too proud, _too insecure_ , to wear his heart on his sleeve. So Peter doesn't answer him, not in so many words at least. He stops walking, and watches Arne stop too and turn towards him, he watches the spectra of all the scary emotions flicker by on his face and the he tells him, slowly, clearly, "Next time we're alone... I'm going to fuck you..."  


Arne's eyes widen and his mouth goes slack, but there's a spark in him and Peter doesn't need him to nod in understanding or approval, but he does anyway.  


"And", Peter adds. "We're leaving the lights on."  


"Okay!" Arne bursts out breathlessly, and Peter smiles.  


"Okay", he echoes.  


He grabs Arne's hand and intertwine their fingers. They seem to fit together more easily with every try.  


"Come on", he says. "Let's go see if our eggs have dried yet..."  


Arne scoffs a little and rolls his eyes, saying _You're such a baby sometimes,_ but immediately falls into step with Peter and let's him lead the way back to the house. And when they inspect their eggs Peter catches a hint of pleasure and maybe even a bit of pride in Arne's face as he turns his eggs in his hands. It's almost as ugly as Peter's egg. But that's not the point.

 

 

The End.


End file.
